


The Last Run

by St_Minority



Category: Trigun
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-11-02 11:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20735876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Minority/pseuds/St_Minority
Summary: Vash will do whatever he can to save people, even if the execution is a bit sloppy. When Wolfwood is the one in trouble, he may allow himself to become too careless in order to have him back. One-Shot





	The Last Run

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place right after the fight between Razlo and Wolfwood in the manga. This is based on a concept touched on in the manga of when a plant uses up the last of its energy and dies. I also saw a fanart several years back that someone did of Vash going through it, and it's kind of haunted me since. I wish I had saved it! This is my take on the process and imagining what plants could be capable of.
> 
> Thanks for checking it out. :)

****  
His feet acted on their own as they took him to a dilapidated couch that miraculously hadn’t been blown to bits during the long battle. Each step was like walking with cinderblocks strapped to his boots, each step making his heart pound faster with dread and his mind race to comprehend what was inevitably to come. 

Taking a seat next to the priest, Vash struggled to maintain a passive expression, his eyes fixed straight ahead on the horizon. The ragged breathing from his friend sounded louder in his ears than it should, and as he clinked his shot glass against his comrade’s, he felt a tremor in his hand that nearly caused him to crush the cup in his grip from the building, violent twister of emotions gaining momentum inside of him.

“I wondered when you’d show up,” Wolfwood wheezed, his calm sarcasm still intact despite the state he was in. “You always come just in time to steal the glory.”  
A noise that was half-part a laugh and the other a sob came from Vash as he forced a smile. “Can’t we just enjoy this moment without you saying something stupid?”  
Wolfwood smirked and gave a small nod. “I suppose we can.”

There wasn’t much time left, and for all the words the infamous outlaw wanted to say, none were rising to the surface. He’d always had an abundance of time, decades upon decades of it, and now, the absence of it for his dearest ally was suffocating him. It seemed like just moments ago when he thought of how he wanted to spend the rest of his days with Wolfwood at his side, to inherit some of the priest’s admirable qualities; he hadn’t expected the damage to be so deep, never imagined that recovering was simply not an available option.

“Wolfwood….” he began in a choked whisper. “I….”  
“You’ll find a way,” Wolfwood concluded for him. “I have faith in you, Spikey. You’ll do what needs done.”  
“I don’t want to do it alone. I don’t want to lose you.” By now, the tears had filled his eyes to the point where they spilled out without him even blinking. There was no preventing them anymore.  
“Just think of it as moving away. I’ll exist in a different world, that’s all.”  
“You’re so calm….How?”  
Wolfwood tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes. “I know I did my part. I fulfilled my path. Yours is still going.”

Despite anticipating it anxiously, the silence came far quicker than Vash was prepared for. He set his glass and the bottle still clutched in Wolfwood’s grasp on the ground, rested his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands as he sobbed. Having lived through dozens of friends and family passing while on this planet, it was always a terrible and painful experience, but he always managed to be okay. This loss, however, was proving much harsher. Not since Rem had he felt the unbearable, inconsolable grief on such an enormous level. 

In time, he moved closer to the other man and embraced the lifeless body tightly against his own. He cradled Wolfwood to him and rocked back and forth as he wept, the world around him fading to insignificance.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he forced out between his uneven breaths. “I’m so sorry….My friend….Please don’t leave me….”

As he held the priest, exquisite plumage began forming on his face and arms. The blame he felt was overwhelming. He had been too late. He knew Wolfwood could be stubborn and hasty with decisions, and this was one of those occasions. If only the other man had waited to engage, waited for _him._ They were supposed to be a team. Though they had parted ways more than once, it never failed that they’d end up back together somehow; Wolfwood always had a way of making him feel better about himself whenever they were with one another, always granted him clarity and purpose, grounded him.

He wasn’t ready to be without it.

The small surge of energy that visually manifested itself via the feathers on him proceeded to build within him like an incessant pressure. At first, he dismissed it as a side-effect of the crushing anguish from losing his beloved friend. After several minutes of it refusing to diminish, however, his mind began racing with possibilities of why, how far he could push it, and for what he could harness it for.

He was familiar with the feeling, of the pulsing power channeling itself through his entire being, causing him to wonder if he could achieve a miracle. The thought of Wolfwood calling him delusional, among other things, at the sound of the idea made him smile. He seemed to always be the dreamer, while Wolfwood inhabited the role of the realist. He couldn’t shake the notion, though. Swaying gently side to side with the man’s limp form still clutched in his embrace, he continued to mull over the fact that plants were able to generate and destroy matter. Knives himself had been able to restore his body to a functional form. Instead of destruction, perhaps he could create. Perhaps he could exploit the energy to give life.

Resting Wolfwood back to where his head was against the arm of the couch, Vash grasped the still somewhat warm hands of the younger man’s in his and leaned down to put his lips on Wolfwood’s slightly open mouth. He breathed in and out steadily, foolishly willing his friend to be resuscitated by the action of breathing for him, and focused his attention and energy to pass from himself to the preacher. 

_Please work,_ he thought desperately. _Please…._

Nearly a minute passed with no results. 

_This is stupid. What am I doing? What was I thinking? I can’t just bring him back. He was right – I can’t save everyone._ A new wave of tears overwhelmed him. _Why did it have to be him? I’m not ready. Not like this…._

The sensation was imperceptible at first, though as he remained hesitantly dedicated to the task, the wave of rising power became more and more prevalent, reminiscent of how he felt when the Angel Arm would activate. A burst of excitement welled within him at this, replacing the doubtfulness, yet he silently cautioned himself to not become too overly optimistic. Large, majestic wings sprouted from his back, feathers adorned his neck, face, and hand more frequently, and as the energy peaked, his entire being was suddenly engulfed in immense agony in just a matter of seconds. A muffled scream was lost inside Wolfwood’s mouth, but he refused to quit now, knowing that _something_ was surely transpiring. Blood leaked from his nose, ears, and closed eyes, mixing with his tears and sweat. His organs felt like they were contorting every which way before being set on fire. 

He didn’t once break away to cry out from the pain. 

_Everything was white. The brightness of the color was nearly blinding, though Wolfwood forced himself to squint ahead at the silhouette of a figure standing some distance away. He didn’t say anything as he approached, nor did he run towards it with the intent of asking for answers. Was he in Hell? Heaven? Did he achieve salvation? Was he stuck somewhere in between? It wouldn’t be a surprise if there was trouble amongst the divine beings about where he should be placed; he’d done plenty of questionably dirty deeds, yet he believed many were justified and necessary. _

_“Nicholas D. Wolfwood, at your service,” he announced once he stood in front of the angel. Its back was to him, granting him the chance to marvel at the gorgeous white wings outstretched as if about to take flight. _

_Gradually, the entity turned to face him, and the priest felt his stomach and throat clench from shock. Standing before him was Vash the Stampede. The plant’s appearance was quite different than what he was used to; there were no scars present on his unclothed body, only beautiful feathers adorning him here and there, and of course, the majestic wings that drew closer to him as if deciding against leaving. His exquisite green eyes were fraught with sorrow, had shed tears that left glistening tracks on his cheeks; however, at the sight of Wolfwood, they gleamed delightedly. _

_Having to swallow several times before he could speak, Wolfwood at last questioned softly, “Vash? Is it really you? What are you doing here?” He reached his hand out slowly to touch the plant’s face to ensure he was actually there. _  
_The blonde smiled sweetly. “I’m here to save you.”  
_ _Fascinated by the plumage, the preacher let his fingers wander over Vash’s body languidly and replied, “Save me? Why?”  
_ _“I still need you. I need your help, your guidance. You’re the only one I trust entirely. I love you.”  
_ _Wolfwood paused and gazed directly at the plant, stunned.  
_ _Sensing the struggle to find words, Vash chuckled and said, “Don’t get used to the sentimentalism. I’m sure you’ll find a way to piss me off in no time.”  
_ _The banter made Wolfwood hurriedly collect himself, prompting him to snicker. “As will you, Spikey. Someone has to keep your head straight and out of trouble.”  
_ _“I wouldn’t expect anything less. There’s a lot left to do….Are you ready?”  
_ _“Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that question? He’s your brother, after all.”  
_ _A dangerous, dark glint flickered in Vash’s eyes that disappeared as quickly as it’d come. He regarded the other man with a mischievous grin and countered, “And here I was ready to give you another chance. You really are a pain in the ass, you know that?”  
_ _Wolfwood held up his hands in a form of surrender. “Alright, I accept that. I’m ready. What do I have to do?”  
_ _Leaning forward to where his lips were nearly ghosting against the priest’s ear, he whispered, “Open your eyes.”_

The first signal to him that the idea was succeeding was the return of real warmth to Wolfwood’s hands. Then, slight twitching of the fingers. Vash pulled away, anxiously staring at the man’s countenance for any other signs of life. He blinked furiously to clear his vision from the blood and tears that clouded his eyes, continued to hold onto his friend’s hands tightly instead of wiping away the red liquid that now leaked out of his own mouth. 

“Nick,” he spoke in a frail voice. “Please wake up.”

He repeated the command a dozen times in between the involuntary noises he emitted from the excruciating pain he was still experiencing. The sensation of his organs burning lingered, in addition to invisible blades slicing and stabbing him all over, making him wonder if he would eventually burst from the inside out. As the agony intensified, he practically shrieked. 

_What is happening to me?!_ he thought frantically. _Why am I like this?! Why won’t it stop?!_

“Vash?”

The sound of his name from a voice he never thought he’d hear again made his heart skip a beat and dulled the suffering temporarily, replacing his anguished expression with a broad, relieved smile and a mix of laughter and sobbing. He met Wolfwood’s wearied, confused gaze with his own exhausted one and trailed his fingers along the priest’s cheek. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” he whispered affectionately, beaming at the priest with pure elation. “Welcome back, Wolfy.”  
Wolfwood inhaled deeply a few times as if confirming he was indeed alive. For him, the image he saw above him was the same angelic version of Vash that he’d just come from, making him uncertain as to what was really happening. “How?” he inquired, bewildered. “Where are we?”  
The outlaw stroked his friend’s hair comfortingly and replied in a quivering voice, “Doesn’t matter right now. You’re gonna be okay. I couldn’t bear the thought of ending this war without you by my side.”  
Once the words passed through the haziness Wolfwood felt, he returned the benevolent smile and nodded.  
“How are you feeling?”  
“Like I’ve been run over too many times.”  
Vash smiled and sympathized, “I know what you mean.” A sharp pain abruptly pierced his side, causing him to hunch over and whimper as if he’d been shot; more blood trickled from his mouth, which Wolfwood at last noticed.  
“Spikey, what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly. “You hurt?”  
Adamantly, Vash shook his head and forced out, “I’m alright. Just a small wound, that’s all. I’ve had worse. Close your eyes and rest. I’ll get you somewhere safe.” He managed another smile to put the preacher at ease.  
Leisurely, Wolfwood nodded before adhering to the gentle request.

Conjuring up every scrap of strength he had, Vash hoisted the other man’s body up over his shoulder and began the trek toward the abandoned orphanage. It would serve as a much more comfortable place to sleep than the couch under the heat of the suns. The distance seemed far greater than it appeared, however, and it wasn’t long before he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Trying to force himself to get up was of no use; he was sickeningly weak.

“Need some help?”

He hadn’t even noticed someone stepping in front of him while he remained on the ground, but he recognized the voice of the only other person left in the area besides himself and Wolfwood. 

Without lifting his head to look at the man, he was somehow able to say, “Please take him inside” through his labored breathing. “He needs rest.”

Livio swept up the preacher’s prone form into his arms as if Wolfwood weighed nothing. “Do you-”  
Vash waved his hand dismissively. “I’m fine.”  
Livio could see the blood seeping out of the various orifices on the Humanoid Typhoon’s head, knew something was seriously wrong, but did not press the issue and obeyed. 

The moment the other man disappeared into the building, Vash leaned forward, braced himself, and vomited. It was nothing but red liquid. He wretched again, spilling more blood onto the gravel. Sinister laughter suddenly rang in his ears, and he sensed the presence of his brother in the sky above him before his twin bothered speaking to him telepathically. 

_“So, it’s happening,”_ Knives stated matter-of-factly. _“You dispensed enough of your energy into your little revival that you’re dangerously close.”_  
Vash remained as he was on his hands and knees, panting, seemingly on the brink of collapse, yet his mind was focused and clear. _“Close to what?”  
“The Last Run. I know you felt it – the feeling of being out of control, of the crushing intensity of your power building. You’ll then be completely depleted and die.”_  
Vash let the words sink in, slowly accepting that Knives was telling the truth.  
_“I won’t have to bother killing you myself, then. You’ve done it for me. You sacrificed yourself for a human. In the end, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To let them live no matter the cost to us? I suppose you can die happy knowing you succeeded….for now….Farewell, dear brother.”_

The realization of the outcome from his foolish, selfish desire to have Wolfwood again sent a wave of panic throughout his whole being. He certainly hadn’t planned on giving all of himself, but he had been so blinded by his inability to accept Wolfwood’s death that it drove him to be careless. 

_I guess if I really am done….At least he’ll have someone capable of helping him,_ he attempted to think positively. _….Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. It didn’t feel like it took that much….It’ll be okay….I can recover….It’ll be alright….God, I feel like shit, though,_ he finished honestly, grinning in amusement at the other comforting lies he was trying to pacify himself with. 

Gathering his strength once more, he got to his feet, swayed in place for a moment due to a bout of dizziness, and proceeded to the building. When he got inside, he found Wolfwood on a couch in the main foyer and Livio sitting at a table in the kitchen. He couldn’t make it to one of the chairs before the tremendous fatigue consumed him, resulting in him leaning against the closest wall and slowly sliding down until he was seated on the floor. Resting his head back on the hard surface, he closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. 

“Are you okay?” Livio asked with concern after several minutes of observing the plant.  
Vash gave a slight nod. “I’ll be fine.” The flatness of his voice contradicted the statement. “Just tired.”  
After surveying the fresh blood trickling from the sides of the outlaw’s mouth and eyes, Livio searched for the right words to speak his next question slowly. “Did you….I was sure that I had killed him….Did you bring him back to life?” As he proceeded with studying Vash’s appearance, he soon realized his hair color was now entirely black, save for a shock of blonde still present in the front. _He_ did _use his power,_ he concluded, stunned.  
Flashing a weary smile, Vash replied plainly, “I do whatever I can to protect others. Sometimes, the execution is a bit sloppy.”

There was a long pause while Livio contemplated how he should handle the situation. It surprised him that Vash didn’t show any signs of being angry at him for how badly he’d wounded Wolfwood, nor did the Humanoid Typhoon seem to view him as an enemy; rather, he appeared to have a sense of trust towards him. The absence of any hostility made Livio all at once nervous and grateful.

As if reading the other man’s mind, Vash chided jokingly, “For a member of the Gung-Ho Guns, you’re sure letting a good opportunity go to waste.” He attempted a grin, though only a grimace shined through.  
Livio glanced away, uncomfortable and uncertain of what to respond with. “I, uh….”  
“Both of us are pretty beat up. Easy targets.”  
“Agreed. But….he opened my eyes and granted me a second chance back there, a chance to be someone better. I can’t ever repay him for that.”  
“Sure you can. Fight by his side.” _Take my place,_ he thought to himself.  
“I-”

Vash’s whole body shook as he began to cough uncontrollably. Instantly, Livio rushed to find a glass that wasn’t broken and hurriedly filled it with water. Quickly, he took it to the gunman, his eyes pleading for him to drink it, yet Vash refused. The fit was harsh enough that he spit up more blood, prompting Livio to forage in the many cabinets for a cloth or napkin to offer. He found a dishtowel and handed it to Vash, who eventually accepted the item. 

At last, the coughing ceased; Vash kept the towel against his mouth for a moment longer until he was sure nothing more was coming and then let his arm drop to the floor as if it was too heavy for him to lift anymore. The two of them sat in silence, the only sound resonating in the room being Vash’s rattling breaths. 

Finally, Livio urged quietly, “Drink this, please,” holding the rim of the glass to the outlaw’s lips this time to stress the importance. There was no declination, allowing him to tip the cup enough to let a small amount of the water to pass into Vash’s parched mouth. The gunman found swallowing to be suddenly difficult, but he was able to force it down after a few seconds.  
“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.  
Despite knowing it was probably inappropriate to ask – because in a way, he believed he already knew the answer – he still wanted to have confirmation. “Is this what happens when plants die? Do they all eventually go through this?”  
Almost a full minute passed before Vash had the strength to answer. “I think so,” he confirmed, his voice shaking and frail. “Knives called it The Last Run. It doesn’t look very pretty, does it?” he added with a kind smile.

The composure with which he was handling his fate and the drastic change from how Livio had seen him only an hour or so ago on the battlefield was saddening. The fact that Vash had willingly chosen to do this because of the love he had for Wolfwood was even more depressing. It didn’t make sense at all to him, to someone who had given everything up to serve others by killing on command. And yet….

_Both of these men have sacrificed themselves today,_ he thought. _It’s….beautiful. Admirable. _

“Maybe you just need to rest,” he commented as casually as he could. It was silly hope, but he wished for it to be true nonetheless. “I can carry you to some place more comfortable.”  
Taking the advice, Vash eased himself down to the side and laid on his back. “Here is fine, thanks. Can you check on him?”  
“Sure, of course.”

In the minute it took for Livio to walk to the other room to ensure Wolfwood was still breathing, Vash had become completely unconscious. There’d been several other dishtowels in the drawer where Livio had found the one from earlier, and he gathered them up to place under Vash’s head to provide a cushion between it and the hard floor. 

Taking a seat at the table once more, he helplessly watched the deteriorating plant sleep.

****  
It was nearly two hours later when Wolfwood groggily awoke. The familiar surroundings almost had him wondering if everything had been a dream, that perhaps he had never been adopted by the Eye of Michael, and that the world currently wasn’t at war against an entity hell-bent on annihilating everyone. The soreness of his body and the absence of children laughing, however, brought him back to reality. Instead of wild commotion often found in the orphanage, he could only hear the gasping, shallow breaths of someone desperately clinging to life, a sound that he was all too familiar with. 

Deciding to investigate, he leisurely got to his feet and started toward the kitchen. The sight of Livio and the grave expression he had alerted him that he wasn’t the one suffering. Nothing was said as Livio glanced from him to the floor near the left of the entryway where he stood, and Wolfwood’s heart began pounding almost painfully in his chest when he at last understood. The dread and anticipation that filled him made the color drain from his face. His mouth went dry, sweat formed on his skin, and with one last moment to brace himself, he entered the kitchen and turned to the left. 

Vash’s body was convulsing involuntarily on the floor, his eyes were closed, and the noises coming from him sounded like someone was choking him. For a brief instant, Wolfwood returned to the powerless mindset of a child watching something horrific unfold, frozen in place as the inability to do or say anything rooted him to the spot. 

“It’s been like this for the last two hours,” Livio explained, breaking the priest out of his initial shock. “He’ll start seizing for a few minutes and then stop. Then it starts again. I don’t know what to do,” he finished with such an emotional heaviness in his tone, it caught Wolfwood by surprise. 

Just as described, Vash went limp after several minutes and tiny whimpers mixed with the struggled breathing. A fresh stream of blood began seeping from the corners of his mouth and eyelids, his nostrils, and ears. Taking a seat near the gunman’s head, the preacher hesitated before he hooked his arms under Vash’s, pulled him into his lap, and lifted him to where his head rested against his chest. 

“Spikey, you stupid idiot,” he whispered, burying his face in Vash’s black hair and cradling him protectively. “What did you do to yourself? Why is this happening?” The sense of helplessness remained; he was completely unsure of how to deal with what was occurring or his volatile emotions.  
“He used up his energy….for you,” Livio said quietly and knelt beside the two of them. “You were dead, Nicholas.”  
Wolfwood gripped the outlaw’s body even tighter. “Why would you do that? You can’t save everyone! Damn it, Vash!”  
“I’m sorry, Nicholas.”  
Delicately, Wolfwood stroked the outlaw’s cheek and hair tenderly, hoping to wipe away some of the blood but only smearing it instead. _“You’re_ the one who’s supposed to deal with Knives. Not me. I’m not worth it, Spikey. You should’ve let me go.”

The spasms commenced once more, causing the priest to slacken his arms in response. 

“We can’t just watch him die like this,” he said with determination. “There has to be something we can do.”  
“If you have an idea, I’m all for it.”

They remained silent until Vash went still three minutes later. Wolfwood embraced him snuggly once more.

“We have to get him to his family,” he announced.  
“His family? As in Knives?”  
“No, not that family. The ones who found him years ago and saved him. The same ones who finally made contact with someone on Earth. _That_ family. If anything can be done, they’ll know what to do.”  
“How far away are they?”  
Wolfwood hesitated. “A ways….”  
“He won’t survive that long.”  
“We have to try. Better than doing nothing.”  
Livio sighed and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sure one of the vehicles nearby still works. I’ll meet you out front.”

Once he was alone with his friend, Wolfwood wept freely. He petted Vash’s black hair in a vain effort to not only comfort the unconscious plant, but himself as well, wanted to shout with rage and frustration, and his body shook from his sobs as another seizure began.

_It can’t end this way. You can’t die,_ he thought heatedly. _Not now. Not like this….Lord….if you’re really up there….you’ve given me a pretty shitty hand in life. And I haven’t bothered you much, I’ve learned to accept it. But I’m coming to you now. Don’t you dare take him. This planet, these people – they need him. I need him. Take me instead. Strike me down, right here and now, but save him. Please…._

“Vash,” he whispered, his voice revealing his vulnerability, “I love you. I know I give you a hard time. I know we’ve disagreed in the past. But I love you. Why did you do such a stupid thing, needle-noggin? I’m not worth it. I can’t take your place in this….What am I supposed to do without you? You were the one who brought me back. You can’t leave now.” He smirked as he added sarcastically, “I know how selfish you can be, Spikey, but this isn’t the time. You have to survive.”

The convulsions finally ceased, signaling to the preacher that it was a good time to carry him outside. Luckily, Livio was waiting for him inside of a car, which Wolfwood swiftly laid Vash in the backseat of and then sat in the front.

“Which way?” Livio asked.  
“Straight ahead to the east. Did you get the Punishers?”  
“In the trunk.”  
“Let’s go.”

Eagerly, Livio slammed his foot down on the pedal and they sped off in a cloud of dust.

****  
It was pure, blessed chance that they were tracked down and spotted by Brad in an airship over an hour later. Neither of them wanted to discuss Vash’s condition. The somberness and grave seriousness in their expressions conveyed the severity, and Brad was respectful enough to not press the matter. They traveled with very few words exchanged, each acutely aware that their only hope against Knives may never wake up. 

Another hour passed, and Wolfwood felt a certain, unexpected comfort from being at the settlement of Vash’s family once again. It had been a whirlwind since they’d arrived. Luida and a small team of medics and engineers were waiting for them, wasted no time in rushing the plant to the infirmary. Livio, Wolfwood, and Brad followed quickly, and as he observed his friend being undressed and poked with various needles and instruments, Wolfwood felt queasy. It was his fault Vash was barely clinging to life. And it would be his fault that Knives would go unchallenged by a rival that possessed even a fraction of the power he’d managed to acquire. 

When nothing more could be done, Luida was the only one to remain in the room with Livio, Wolfwood, and Brad.

“I suppose now is a good time to introduce me to your new companion,” she addressed Wolfwood, successfully pulling his gaze away from Vash’s bloodied, serene features.  
“Of course. Luida, this is Livio. I’ve known him for years. He’ll be an asset for us.”  
“I trust your judgement. Welcome aboard, Livio.”  
“Thank you,” the former Gung-Ho Gun replied. “Unfortunate that we meet during a tragedy such as this.”  
Luida nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is quite shocking. It’s not often he uses his energy so extensively. Apart from firing the Angel Arm, he hardly uses any at all. What happened?”  
Noticing Livio was about to answer, Wolfwood hurriedly interjected, “We don’t know. It was a surprise to us as well. There was some heavy fighting, but aside from that, I don’t know what he did.” He was relieved to see Livio accepting the cue and nodding in agreement at the lie.  
“How long has he been like this? Has he displayed any other symptoms?”  
“Going on four hours, maybe longer,” Livio estimated. “Many seizures and then the bleeding. Nothing more from what I can tell.”

Though she hid her crestfallen expression well, the three of them sensed the underlying despair. Hearing the duration said aloud of how long Vash had been suffering made it all the more real that he was severely ill, and for whatever reason, by some sort of miracle, he was still hanging on. 

“What happens now?” Brad asked. “We just sit and wait?”  
Luida sighed. “I’m afraid that’s all we can do.” Looking to Livio and Wolfwood, she commented, “It’s late. You both have had a long day, I’m sure. Brad, can you please escort them to some open rooms?”  
“Actually, I’d like to stay here with him, if you don’t mind,” Wolfwood stated politely, yet his posture indicated he wouldn’t be leaving even if the answer was “no”.  
Luida nodded. “Of course.”

Once he was alone in the area, he found a chair, set it next to Vash’s bedside, and sat down. It wasn’t long before he grew antsy, the need to be useful nagging away at him, and he searched for something to clean the gunman’s face. With a wet washcloth in hand a few minutes later, he took a seat on the side of the bed and commenced delicately scrubbing the dried blood from the various spots on the frighteningly pale skin, stupidly hoping the touch would wake his comrade.

“What a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself and all of us into, Spikey,” he murmured quietly. “A fine mess indeed.”

He eventually gave up on wiping the annoying, stray tears that periodically escaped his own eyes as he continued washing the plant’s face. 

“I saw you, you know. When I was dead. You had these giant wings and….” He gazed at the scars visible on Vash’s arm now that he was dressed in a thin, light-green, short-sleeved hospital gown. “You didn’t have any of these. I almost thought you were an angel….You _were_ an angel….My angel….”

He set the washcloth aside, took Vash’s hand in his, and rested his forehead near the crook of the outlaw’s shoulder as he broke down. When he was living at the orphanage, he learned crying never helped. It’s why many of them had made fun of Livio for how much he did it. Even after being adopted and groomed for mercenary work, he was conditioned to never cry. He never allowed himself to become close to someone either because it never ended well. There was no one he could depend on other than himself, and he had grown to accept it. And then, there was Vash the Stampede. He refused to consider their relationship anything other than a well-timed alliance once he chose to stand against Knives, but now, there was no denying Vash had become an important part of his life. No matter if it was his battle to fight alone or not, Vash was always there to back him up, a true and loyal friend that he’d never had his entire life. 

He hadn’t had to deal with the loss of someone he cared about since his parents. And, despite his appearance, his young age of merely eighteen and being reliant on himself for the majority of those years contributed to being highly ill-equipped to deal with this surprising loss now as a result. 

_It was supposed to be me, not you,_ he scolded mutely. _I’ve done nothing to warrant such a sacrifice from you. But that’s just it, isn’t it? You’ve done it this whole time. It’s why you look the way you do. You give and give and….you gave too much this time. I’m sorry you wasted it on me._

With his head still resting on Vash’s shoulder and his hand loosely grasping the plant’s, he eventually drifted off to sleep. 

****  
Five days passed with little change. The seizures continued, albeit less frequently and lasted for just seconds as opposed to minutes at a time. Wolfwood refused to leave Vash’s side and spent the nights sleeping in the chair that he’d put next to the bed. 

“Still awake?” Livio asked quietly, approaching the priest who was simply observing the unconscious outlaw from where he sat.  
“Yeah,” was the tired response. “What time is it?”  
“Two in the morning.” Staring at the other man directly, he questioned, “You haven’t been getting much sleep at all, have you?”  
Wolfwood shook his head.  
“We can do shifts, if that’ll make you feel better. You can’t keep staying up like this.”  
“I’m alright.”  
“Nick-”  
“I have to stay,” Wolfwood interrupted, anxiousness and desperation laced in his voice. “I know it’s useless, but….I have to stay. I have to be here for when….”  
Livio nodded, receiving the implication of the statement. After a brief moment of silence, he inquired, “So there’s really no way to give him back the energy he lost?”  
“Plants are a finite resource, from what little I know.”  
“They can’t just get some from another one then?”  
“I don’t think that’d be very ethical.”  
“Then how did Knives get so powerful?”  
“He’s not the best one to look at for being ethical, or morally sane, Livio.”  
“Fair enough,” Livio conceded with a shrug.  
“But….” Wolfwood abruptly sat up straighter, his eyes brightening as he became more alert. “You made me remember something. Luida said when they found him all those years ago, he seemed to recover much faster when he visited the room with all those people from the original fleet still contained in their capsules. Almost like he had some sort of connection to them or something. Maybe if we put him in the same room, he’ll get better.”  
Not wanting to dissuade him from hoping, Livio simply nodded and said, “Alright. Where is this room?”  
“I don’t know. But I know someone who does.”

****  
It took half an hour to find Brad’s quarters among all the other residents. Firmly, though quietly, Wolfwood knocked on the door several times. 

“He’s not going to be very happy with us,” Livio remarked with a smirk.  
“He’ll be fine. This is important.”

In little time the door opened, and upon discovering who it was, Brad’s expression became annoyed. 

“What do you want?” he asked grouchily.  
“We need you to show us where all the people are kept from the original fleet.”  
Brad quirked an eyebrow. “Why?”  
“I think it’ll help Vash.”  
A beat passed before he responded, “What are you talking about?”  
“Luida said he recovered quickly in the past whenever he visited them. Maybe it’ll work this time too.”  
“He’s not even conscious to know-” He abruptly stopped when he saw the pleading in the priest’s eyes. With a heavy sigh, he brushed passed them both and said, “Come on. I’ll take you there.”

****  
“Okay. It’s clear. Let’s go.”

With Wolfwood pushing the bed and Livio keeping pace beside him to wheel the stand that held the IV bags along, they followed Brad through numerous corridors, halting at each branching point to ensure no one was around to question why they had taken a very sick patient away from the health ward. 

Nearly seven minutes later, they arrived. The air was chilly, causing a shiver to run down Wolfwood’s spine, and he wondered if he should’ve brought another blanket to lay on top of Vash’s already cool body. The vast area was lit by the bluish glow coming from each of the capsules at the center of the room. They moved Vash’s bed to the railing in front of them all and peered over the side to see the pods continued down at least a hundred feet. 

“Well, what now?” Brad asked.  
The preacher shrugged. “I guess we just keep him here for a while.”

As the three of them sat on the floor looking out to the sleeping crowd, they’d doze off for a few minutes before shaking themselves awake. After an hour of silence, Brad finally posed the question, “What really happened?”

Livio remained quiet, knowing from days earlier that the other man was reluctant to give the truth. It would have to be Wolfwood’s decision to tell, not his; he could simply provide a picture of what the aftermath looked like. 

Nearly a minute went by before Wolfwood at last said, “He gave me a second chance.” He took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, and added, “I died.”  
Brad’s eyes grew large, his mouth agape, yet he didn’t interject.  
“Sitting right next to him, I was dead. I closed my eyes, and that was it. There was no more pain, nothing. And then, I remember seeing an empty space that was so bright and what I thought was an angel to help me pass over was actually him trying to bring me back….And he did. I don’t know the specifics of how or why, but he did it. He gave me his energy. That’s the only way he could’ve.”  
“He didn’t mean to kill himself in the process,” Livio added, seeing the bewilderment and confusion painted on Brad’s face. “I don’t think he really knew if it would work or what he was doing.”  
“He….revived you from death?” Brad asked, unbelieving.  
“Yes,” Wolfwood answered, a sense of guilt coming over him, and he bowed his head.  
“I’d heard he’d go through a lot of trouble to save people at his own expense but….never thought he could….bring someone back to life.”  
“He called it something,” Livio offered, “what he was going through. Said Knives told him about it. The Last….”  
“Run,” Brad finished softly, almost hesitantly. The other two men looked at him surprised. He swallowed hard and there was a grim seriousness to him now. “I’ve seen it. Once. It’s….horrible.”  
They were all wide awake now. Wolfwood stared at him eagerly and prodded, “What happened?”

Appearing rather uncomfortable about discussing the incident, Brad went ahead with divulging the memory. “When the doc was still alive, I used to travel with him. Keep him safe whenever he’d venture out of our secluded area. I don’t know how people knew about him, but whenever nearby cities had issues with their plants, he was one of the engineers they’d call on to try and fix it. So I went with him to one of these calls and almost right away, he can tell it can’t be repaired. It didn’t make sense to me; all the levels seemed steady. Maybe a tad low, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. But he said this one would soon be entering The Last Run. That’s when the plants will deliberately go out of control to use up the remainder of what little bit of their energy they have left before they….explode.” He glanced away from the dumbfounded expressions of the two men, stared up at Vash briefly, and went on. “It wasn’t even thirty minutes later when it happened. Her levels spiked, were off the charts. I almost thought she was going to burst through the bulb. She looked so….wild. Angry. Pained. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open like she was screaming, though we couldn’t hear anything. There was a bright flash that blinded us, a loud bang and….”  
Even though they knew what was about to be said, Livio and Wolfwood still waited impatiently for the finale, hearts pounding and practically holding their breath.  
“When we got our vision back, there was so much blood splattered all over the inside of the bulb, and….what little remained of her in pieces.”

A suffocating silence hung in the air as they each processed the words and disturbing visual. The thought of Vash meeting the same fate made Wolfwood sick to his stomach. He reached up instinctively to take hold of the outlaw’s hand as if assuring himself the plant’s body was still intact.

“I don’t understand,” he at last confessed after ten minutes. “If that’s really what happened to him, why hasn’t he exploded?”  
Brad shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s definitely unusual. But Vash and Knives are anomalies. They’re not like all the other plants. Maybe he was able to get control of it somehow and he’s in a state of preservation now to regenerate some of what was lost. Maybe he’s just too weak to wake up or function properly. Or maybe he just slowly shuts down instead of releasing it all at once and then dies. I have no idea. We don’t have the greatest knowledge on plants to begin with, let alone on ones as powerful and complex as Vash and Knives.”

The possible explanations didn’t do much to pacify the priest’s concerns and fears, but they would have to do for the time being. The three of them remained in the room with Vash for an additional two hours until they decided to return him to the hospital wing. Brad went back to his quarters, while Livio stayed with Wolfwood for a bit longer as the preacher assumed his diligent post again of watching over his friend. 

“Maybe he’ll come out of this,” Livio offered optimistically. “We can keep taking him each night and hope that it works. Like Brad said, maybe he’s just recuperating some of what he lost before he’s able to be strong enough to wake up again.”  
Wolfwood sighed, rubbed his tired face and mumbled, “Yeah I hope you’re right.”

****  
Two weeks passed with minimal change. The three of them continued to transport Vash at night for a couple of hours, though belief in the plan was waning, at least in Wolfwood’s mind. While the convulsions ceased entirely, there was still no sign that Vash would open his eyes anytime soon. One positive was that there was no more random bleeding from any areas on his head; a negative was that his heartbeat and blood pressure would spike for a few minutes and then return to normal. Another recent occurrence was his hand clenching into a tight fist. When Wolfwood first saw it happen, he felt the rush of anticipation course through him as he waited anxiously for the outlaw to open his eyes. It never came, and he’d always end up helping the plant’s fingers relax once more. 

He wasn’t sure which was worse: waiting for Vash to die or knowing he was the cause of it. 

There really was no solid Plan B on how to counter Knives, and the uneasiness of that fact hung heavily in the air for everyone. They had pinned so much of their faith on Vash being the one to stand against him, and Vash himself had spent decades searching for his brother and preparing for it, that his absence brought on a sense of defeat without anyone speaking their fears aloud. 

“Everyone was counting on you,” Wolfwood stated quietly, taking a sip from his bottle of whiskey. He noticed the outlaw’s fingers twitching, prompting him to hold his hand before it balled into a fist. It was always surprising, how strong Vash’s grip was. Brad’s theory of him struggling to suppress the rampant energy to prevent the final stages of The Last Run had passed through the priest’s mind on a few occasions; perhaps this was a sign that even in his unconscious state, there remained some degree of control, and the movement in his hand was a result of the enormous strain that taming it caused him. 

“Jesus Spikey. You sure can crush someone’s bones if you wanted to.”

Since he had been spending the majority of his time at the plant’s bedside, Wolfwood had begun talking to him like he would if they were having a regular conversation. Of course, he only did it when no one was around to spare himself from any embarrassment that would come from essentially talking to himself. He confessed sins, told stories of growing up in the orphanage, recounted some of their greatest adventures together, and asked questions that he’d never get answers to. It filled him with much needed comfort. 

“When you wake up from this, I swear I won’t give you such a hard time. I don’t understand you. I sure as hell don’t get why you won’t kill bad people and always allow yourself to get beaten up in the process, but I’ll keep myself from telling you how ridiculous you are. You have to wake up, though.” He rubbed his thumb against the back of Vash’s hand, no longer concerning himself with how chilly it felt. Heaving a sigh, he went on, “I wish you’d wake up, Spikey. I hate worrying about you every day. It’s getting old.”

He gulped down another shot of alcohol, winced at the spasm that went through the outlaw’s hand that resulted in the grip intensifying, and stared blankly at Vash’s serene features. “You know, it used to worry me when you’d get quiet. Part of me would be thankful for it. The other part wished I could do something to help….Ironic, isn’t it? You can make me feel like I’m the best partner you’ve ever had to fight alongside with, while at the same time make me feel like I’m completely useless. I don’t know how to handle Knives. That’s your area of expertise. Just tell me what to do and I’ll be right there with you to do it. But you have to wake up, damn it.” He felt the tears he hated crying building in his eyes. “You have to wake up,” he repeated indignantly. “This isn’t right that I’m here and you’re not. I was never supposed to be saved, Vash. By _you_ or _anyone._ How are we supposed to get that world of love and peace you always lecture about without you?” The aggravation faded rapidly, replacing it with crippling sadness. He leaned forward to caress the gunman’s face and stroke his hair affectionately. “I hate admitting it, but I don’t know what to do without you now, Spikey. I haven’t had anyone piss me off quite like you….I haven’t really had much of a purpose until you….I need you. I need you to continue showing me the good in people, in myself. Please wake up.”

He was sick of praying, was tired of waiting. He almost wondered if it was possible for them to somehow drain the rest of the energy from Vash to put an end to it all. 

“How’s he doing?”

Livio always asked the question when he and Brad would come in at midnight for them to sneak Vash away. And Wolfwood would always answer, “Same as ever.”

****  
Another week went by. Knives was showing no signs of slowing down his efforts of eradicating the planet of humans, and the reinforcements from Earth wouldn’t be arriving for almost another month. New strategies were being formed with Livio and Wolfwood designated as the ones to engage Knives’ surviving members of the Gung-Ho Guns and then ultimately, leading the charge against Knives himself. There wasn’t a clear answer for what type of weapon would be capable of taking the rogue plant out, and both Livio and Wolfwood doubted one even existed besides Vash.

Regardless, they accepted their future assignments and kept any uncertainties to themselves. There wasn’t need for anymore pessimism and sense of loss than what everyone was currently feeling. 

****  
It was like waking from a dream, the moment when reality is somewhat blurred and you’re not sure if you’re still asleep or genuinely awake. 

Nearly two months had passed since he’d last seen his surroundings, yet in his mind, it had only been a week at most. His vision was cloudy at first, the room dimly lit, but it didn’t take him long to comprehend where he was. It was a stark contrast to the abandoned kitchen of the orphanage he vaguely remembered. He was home, bringing a relieved smile to his otherwise drowsy expression. 

Languidly, Vash struggled to sit up, being cautious of the various cords attached to his chest, arm, and hand. There wasn’t anyone around, though he knew someone had been watching over him as evidenced by the chair right next to where he lay and the blanket hung over the back of it. His body felt like it had been beaten mercilessly and was utterly spent, yet there were no bruises on him, and he knew he should at least try and stay awake for a little while. 

The events leading up to his unconsciousness were foggy in his memory. There had been an enormous amount of gunfire, Wolfwood had been hit by so much of it-

His eyes widened, and he put a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp. 

_Wolfwood. _

The images flashed in his mind of the priest’s extensively wounded body, the touch of his cold hands, breathing life into him again, the indescribable pain from the energy surging to its fullest extent within himself, Knives’ mocking tone, Livio wanting to help him….

He suddenly heard voices coming toward the room, and the sound of one in particular made tears spring to his eyes. 

The instant Wolfwood stepped into the doorway, he stopped, nearly causing Livio and Brad to crash into him. 

“What the hell, Nick?!” Livio exclaimed, irritated. He and Brad quickly found the source of Wolfwood’s abrupt halt. 

For almost an entire minute, there was total silence as the former assassin and the Humanoid Typhoon stared at one another. Nothing was said, yet everything was conveyed. After so much time spent with one another, they had perfected communicating without the need for words to understand each other. 

Taking a step forward, Wolfwood almost didn’t believe it was real. He contemplated if he was perhaps immensely inebriated and hallucinating. But that excuse fell apart upon realizing he hadn’t had a drink in several hours. 

“Hey,” Vash finally greeted, his voice hoarse and little more than a whisper. He was beaming with happiness and relief, the tears beginning to streak his cheeks.  
It was practically thirty seconds before Wolfwood found his own voice. “Hey.” He approached the bed, sat down on it next to the outlaw, and merely gazed at him, astonished. It didn’t seem possible, that after all this time….He nearly reached his hand out to touch Vash’s face, to confirm his eyes weren’t merely tricking him into seeing something he’d been so desperately hoping for.  
“I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again.”  
Wolfwood swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and constricted, and nodded absently. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again either. Awake, I mean….Alive.”  
Vash sighed, glanced away briefly, and confessed, “I don’t know how I am either, to tell you the truth. Last thing I remember was excruciating pain and….I know it’ll sound like an exaggeration, but it felt like I was going to explode. I’m not sure how else to explain it….”  
Wolfwood’s stomach knotted at the word, and his heart pounded faster from realizing just how close Vash had gotten to meeting the same brutal fate that Brad had witnessed of another plant.  
Not noticing the new paleness to Wolfwood’s complexion, Vash met the priest’s gaze once more and smiled. “Sometimes, I get really lucky, I guess….I’m glad you’re doing okay….I, uh….” He bowed his head, searching for the right words. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, Nicholas,” he finally settled on. “If only I’d gotten there sooner-”

Not being able to refrain any longer, Wolfwood threw his arms around his friend’s neck, pulled him close, and hugged him securely. Placing his own around the man’s torso, Vash returned the embrace wholeheartedly, closing his eyes as he wept with joy. 

“I can’t believe it,” Wolfwood whispered, his fingers burying themselves in the plant’s black hair as he held Vash’s head against his shoulder. “I’d given up on you, Spikey. Thank god you’re back. I can’t believe it….Don’t you ever do anything that stupid again, you hear me?”  
Vash gave a weak laugh. “You know I can’t promise that.”  
“I guess that’s why you have me, to keep you out of trouble.”  
“Like usual.”  
“Don’t blame yourself, either. You showed up. That’s all that matters….Whether I need you or not, you always show up.”  
Vash gave a light chuckle. “When you say it like that, it makes it sound like I’m pestering you.”  
“And?”  
“Jeeze! You don’t have to be so rude.”  
“You’re right. I should wait until you recover a bit more.”  
“Your consideration is appreciated.”

It was a long while before they separated from one another. When they did, Vash was shocked to see the rare tears streaking Wolfwood’s face. Gently, he wiped them away with his thumbs and assured kindly, “Don’t ever think you weren’t worth it, Nicholas.” He smiled lovingly at the flabbergasted expression he received. “I may have been selfish and stupid, but you’re my ally and above all else, my friend. I’d do anything for you.”

Wolfwood felt like a child once more, vulnerable and longing for a home. As Vash gazed at him with such compassion, the gravity of what the plant had sacrificed for him struck him hard, and he realized he really did at last have a family. He had Vash, and that was the only person he truly needed.

“What all else did you hear?” he finally dared to inquire sheepishly.  
“Enough to know you ask a lot of questions and don’t remember things that happened correctly.”  
“What makes you say that?!”  
Vash put a hand to his forehead, feigning a headache. “I can’t think of specifics on the spot like this. I’m still recovering, you know.”  
“Because everything I said was right.”  
“Let’s not get carried away now.”  
“I think your brain got depleted too, needle-noggin.” A beat passed before his expression became slightly more serious as he said sincerely, “Thank you, Vash.”  
The outlaw smiled. “You’re welcome.”  
“I suppose this means I’m forever indebted to you.”  
“Maybe not forever. We can work out the details later.”  
Wolfwood rolled his eyes, though there was a small grin playing at the edges of his lips. “Of course. Can I do anything for you right now?”  
“Help me to the bathroom?”  
“You don’t need it. You’ve got a catheter in.”  
Vash lifted the sheets to look down below his waist. He groaned and complained, “These are the worst! I’m taking it out.”  
“The hell you are! You can wait until the morning. Don’t need you messing up anything else.” He chuckled at the pout he received in response. “Glad to see you’re still your usual pain-in-the-ass self.”  
“Why don’t you get one and then see how you like it?”  
“I’m not the one who was out for almost two months.”  
“Two months?!” he exclaimed with genuine shock. His gaze was now sharply alert and grim.  
Noting the shift in mood, Wolfwood quickly laid a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Spikey. It’s alright. Things have been relatively quiet since you were awake last. I promise.” It was somewhat of a lie, but he figured it was best for the time being; the last thing he needed was to add to Vash’s problems and cause him to panic. Seeing the unspoken guilt in the plant’s eyes, he reiterated in a whisper, “It’s okay. No need to worry about any of that right now. Let’s focus on getting you back to normal and feeling better, alright?”  
Vash took several deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down and nodded.  
“Are you in any pain?”  
Another nod accompanied by a heavy sigh. “Some, but it’s manageable.”  
“They can give you something in the morning for it, I’m sure. Other than that, how are you feeling?”  
“Tired. Like I’ve been hit by a sandsteamer.”  
“That sounds like quite a bit more than ‘manageable’.”  
The gunman flashed a smile. “I’ll be fine.”  
“You know, when you say that, things have a tendency to be the complete opposite of that.”  
Vash scowled at how easily his friend could call his bluff. In a display of being overly dramatic, he took Wolfwood’s hands in his, bowed his head humbly, and declared, “I swear to you, I will be okay. I can handle it. I am fine.”  
Wolfwood once again rolled his eyes and gave a small chuckle. “Alright, alright. I get it. Lay down. You should rest.”  
As Vash complied, he asked, “Can I have some water?”  
“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

It couldn’t have been more than a minute that Wolfwood was gone; when he returned with the glass, Vash was already asleep. He grinned and shook his head. 

“All that talk wore him out,” he reasoned.

Setting the cup on a nearby table, he sat in his chair, took Vash’s hand in his, and kissed it lightly. 

“Thank you. For everything.”

****  
It was seven in the morning when Livio decided to peek in on the reunion. He and Brad had left once it was apparent that they were intruding on a powerful moment between the two men, and he was sure Wolfwood hadn’t even noticed they were gone; the instant the priest saw Vash awake, that was all that mattered.

The small community was quiet; only a handful of people were moving around, beginning their day. Whenever the news of Vash being coherent got out, he knew there would be a new, invigorating hope that would spread throughout them all.

There wasn’t anyone else in the hospital ward, save for the patient and his diligent guard, and Livio couldn’t help but grin when he saw them lying together on the bed. 

Wolfwood was snuggled tightly against Vash, who had his arms around him in a tender embrace. Both were sound asleep, which Livio was glad to see the preacher finally getting some peaceful, much needed rest. He couldn’t remember a time when Wolfwood had ever displayed any type of personal affection like this; at the orphanage, he had become another caretaker to the other children, a protector, had to be the strong one. Now, judging by the way in which he was clinging to Vash, he was allowing someone else to finally take care of him. 

There would be much anticipation about how soon Vash would be well enough to confront Knives. Whether he had physically regained what he’d lost didn’t matter. He had Wolfwood to stand with him, to be with him until the end like his heart truly desired, whatever the outcome; an inseparable, unlikely duo. The Humanoid Typhoon was the chaotic good to the priest’s stoic neutral. And yet, they gave to one another what each of them sincerely craved: love and peace.


End file.
